Only the Messenger
by fierce-vanity
Summary: Her life had always been satisfactory but never perfect, until she discovered her potential. Through this ability she will discover things that she wish she hadn't. R
1. Chapter 1

Andrew Miller was there again, getting drunk off his fourth beer. No doubt he'd start to hit on her soon, and she shuddered just thinking about it. He was in his mid 30's, but by the way he took care of himself, he looked like he was in his late 50's. He always came in at 9:40 sharp every night and sat at the same table, and drank enough beer to fill an aquarium.

He never allowed anyone to serve him anything unless she did, and every time she'd walk up, she was blinded by the putrescent odor of cigarettes and sweat.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw his hand raise up to get her attention. She took a deep sigh and tossed the washcloth underneath the bar top and walked over. Putting on her best smile she managed to mumble through the haze of cigarette smoke.

"What else can I do for you, sir?" she sputtered behind clenched teeth. She knew as soon as the words escaped her mouth, that she had made a mistake.

His hand reached out and wrapped around the lower part of her back pulling her close, and she tried to keep a straight face as he spoke.

"Well, yuuou could dooo someefing." The words came slurring out of his mouth as he maintained his grasp on her hips. She tried not to gag as the smell of alcohol and cigarettes lifted up to her nose.

She managed to spare a smile as she wriggled out from his grasp. Swiftly taking the remainder of the beer from his table, she turned to walk away but paused when he slapped her behind.

Suppressing the urge to throw a chair at his face, she turned around slowly and placed his bill on the table.

"I think you're done sir."

She was surprised when she didn't hear complaining. Whenever he had too much to drink and was asked to leave, he would always throws tantrums and start threatening people but tonight, he chose not too. She watched lift himself up from his chair, throw a couple of twenty's on the table, and stumble out the door without a word.

Walking over, she picked up the money left and started to clear off the table. She slumped her shoulders as she walked back to the bar, placing the tumblers on the tabletop. It had been a slow evening and she was getting tired. As she pulled herself up onto a stool, her brother walked out from the back holding a bucket of dirty dishes.

"Who were you talking to?" he said drying a mug. She had her face buried in her hands as she mumbled through her palms. "Miller, I swear if he continues to…" she stopped mid-sentence when she heard a shattering sound and she jerked her face up.

Her brother was looking at her strangely and seemed unconcerned with the broken mug on the floor. The expression on his face startled her and she reached out her hand to his.

"Dean, what is it? Are you ok?" her words broke his trance and he placed the washcloth on the table. Looking down he seemed to be collecting his words.

"Addi, Miller wasn't here…" he looked back up and continued, "no one was." Concern was written all over his face as she let out a nervous laugh. "What? I saw him right there." she motioned to the table in which he was sitting.

Dean had walked around the bar top and was now sitting next to her on a stool. "Addison, are you seeing people again?" he placed his hand on her arm and gently turned her chair to face him. "I thought we got over this."

She lifted her face to his and smiled softly, "Maybe I just thought it was him." Her words tried to confirm her sanity, but her mind couldn't. Dean fell silent, hanging his head down for a few minutes before getting up and walking into the backroom without a response.

Addison never liked talking about her problems and whenever they came up she tried her best to suppress them, knowing it hurt her brother to even think about it. Dean had always been there to protect her; when her parents fought, through bad relationships and any other situation she managed to get herself into.

Taking a few deep breaths she raised herself off the stool. Stepping up to retrieve the 4 empty tumblers, she jumped when she observed that all four tumblers were full, brimming to the top with beer.

Whizzing around, she was in utter shock when she found Andrew Miller sitting at the table. A smoky haze surrounded him as he sipped slowly on his ale, keeping his eyes locked on Addison.


	2. Chapter 2

Addison stood frozen in place, her eyes connected with the man sitting in front of her. After a few minutes of a deadlocked stare, she snapped out of her trance, hesitating as she walked up to his table.

The air around him cleared as she approached, and a smile formed on his face. Her expression must have been filled with confusion because he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small piece of paper and placed it on the table. His eyes looked up into hers and locked before he got up and walked out the door, instantly clearing the haze.

Her eyes drifted to the paper, it laid crumpled in a ball on the table. Picking it up, she gently unfolded it, scanning the black inked script. One word scrawled across the crinkled paper spelled…

_Gray_

---

**9:20 pm.**

At least that's what the watch on his wrist indicated, and it was never wrong. Lowering his hand, he reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a crisp white handkerchief.

Dark red stained the cloth as he wiped his hands clean of his victim's blood. The young man, shrouded in shadows, smirked down at the body lying grotesquely in the alley; the top of his head cut clean off.

A heartbeat pounded in the darkness and he stuffed the cloth in his pocket, his deep voice penetrating the air.

"You're late again," he turned around slowly to face the intruder, "That makes four now."

His stone-cold expression faced off against the panicked one of a young man with bangs hanging in his eyes.

"Well…" a sarcastic shrug accented his words, "why don't we make it five." Lifting his hand up towards the empath's forehead, he paused anticipating his reaction.

The man's form faded until it completely disappeared as he heard footsteps beating against the concrete until the sound waned and his heartbeat vanished. He glanced at his watch once more before placing his hands in the pockets of his coat, his ears tuned to the diminishing beats.

**10:00 pm**

Peering down the alley, his eyes were drawn to the flickering sign above a door a few feet away. The bright blue lights gleamed in block letters reading _Promenade Tavern_. Keeping his hands in his pockets, he shuffled his feet through a puddle making his way towards the bar. Without contact, the door opened and he walked in, inhaling the heavy scent of cigarette smoke as he made his way to a vacant table.

Sitting down, he scanned the perimeter of the tavern, locating a group of men engrossed in a basketball game. Unfortunately, none had any abilities like the one he managed to trap earlier.

"Can I get you anything, sir?" a feminine voice sounded next to him. His dark eyes drifted up towards her face. He had seen the girl when he entered the bar; she had been standing a couple tables away and was glancing at a piece of paper, looking clearly troubled.

He scanned the young girl up and down; she was tall and slender with long, dark brown hair. She had bangs that ended bluntly just above chestnut eyes. A black, fitted tank top coupled with a matching skirt consisted of her wardrobe and she held a round tray under her arm. His attention was drawn to the necklace she wore, a simple gold chain with an s-like charm, the necklace looked familiar and he racked his brain trying to remember where he'd seen it before.

The long pause between the two caused the young girl to panic a bit and he could sense her nerves jumping, so he flashed a smile, collecting warmth in his eyes as he spoke.

"I don't know, what's good?"


	3. Chapter 3

Addison placed the plate of food and a glass of Jack and coke on the table, smiling at her guest. He returned the smile, giving her a thank you as she turned to wait on someone else. His hand outstretched and the glass slid to his palm, pulled by an unseen force. He took a long drink, closing his eyes as he shook off his exhaustion. Glancing around the large area of the tavern, he noticed that the group of men watching the game when he had walked in was gone.

In fact, the majority of people that were there had already left. Taking a glance at his watch showed why, it was already 1:30. Sylar put down the glass on the table, picking up a fork; he examined it before throwing it down when he saw the waitress return.

"How is everything?" she asked, a sparkling smile on her face. Sylar turned back the charm, as he let out a laugh, "I don't know, I haven't tried it yet." He saw her face drop but quickly replaced with a nervous smile, as she opened her mouth to speak, "but, the drink is excellent." He stated, continuing his response.

She turned to walk away but Sylar held out his hand to catch her, grazing her wrist. He watched her stop suddenly, as if frozen; her brown eyes turning stark white. Sylar pulled his hand away from her and stared disbelievingly at it, distracting his attention between his hand and her face.

A pair of eyes from across the room was on the both of them, and Sylar's heartbeat rose. Before he could stop himself, he whispered "Sit down." and watched as her hand pulled out the chair next to him and sat down, complying with his request.

It took him a while to figure out what had happened; sitting at the table staring at her like he'd never seen a girl before. He didn't seem to notice her eyes change back and her body jump when his connection broke. Addison smiled nervously as she saw the man in front of her staring at her.

He finally noticed and pulled his attention elsewhere. He must have looked like an idiot staring at her like that, watching her look down at the chair confused. Her hand pressed against her forehead and she grimaced.

"Are you ok?" he asked, skeptical about touching her. She lifted herself up, pushing the chair in. "Yeah, just a little headache."

He caught her attention before she had time to walk away, keeping his hands in his lap. "What's your name?"

The young woman turned to face him, smiling she replied, "Addison." He nodded and she added to her response, "Yours?"

Keeping calm, he answered coolly, "Gabriel."

She smiled another one of her dazzling smiles, as he watched her disappear through the back room. He exhaled, narrowly missing an unwanted conversation. His eyes darted to the man who had been looking at him earlier, glaring, he sent an intimidating vibe his way; watching him get up from his table and walk out the bar without a payment or tip.

Addison noticed as well, as she dashed out from the back, gaping as the door closed. Sylar didn't know how to explain it but every time he saw her, it was as if he was hit by a rock. It wasn't the pain behind the expression but the awareness, like he had known her before. He just couldn't explain it; he felt a strong, tugging connection to her.

"I'll pay for it." His voice startled her as she whizzed around. Addison walked up, shaking her head. "You don't have to."

Using a childish reaction, Sylar pursed his lips together, acting as if he was thinking. He broke his expression and looked at her, smiling. "But I want to."

"You are by far, the nicest person I have ever met. Society should take lessons from you." Reaching into his coat for his wallet, Sylar had to let out a laugh, thinking about the very reason society _shouldn't_ take lessons from him. Pulling out a one hundred dollar bill he placed it in her hand.

He noticed her surprised expression, adding "That doesn't include my bill." Addison stared at him, perplexed; though she became skeptical, leaning over and pinching his arm.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, pulling his arm away. The girl's eyes widened and she jumped back, spilling a million "sorry's".

He risked the effects of his newly acquired power when he shot his hand out placing it on her arm, halting her word flood. She looked down at his hand curled around her wrist and lifted her gaze to his. Their eyes locked and they both ended up laughing as he pulled his hand away.

"I was just checking if you were real." She said picking up his empty plate and glass. Her response surprised him and he looked up at her confused.

"Is my character _that_ uncommon?" he asked, amusement in his tone. Holding her tray, she placed her free hand on her hip, smiling, "Around here, definitely." She was met with an imitation of her smile as he stood, slipping a fifty dollar bill in her hand as he walked out of the bar.

The cold wind blasted against his face when he stepped out into the alley way. Walking down the steps, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of notebook paper. Examining the address written, his mind memorized it, filing it away for further use.

Bracing against the wind, he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat, walking briskly past the body in the alleyway as he dropped the paper. It floated through the air and landed on the man's chest. Glancing down, he took one last look, taking pride in his kill, as he pulled his coat closer to his body.

Grinning to himself, he made his way to pay a visit to his next victim, disappearing in the shadows.


	4. Chapter 4

The doorknob unlocked beneath her grasp and she walked into the dark corridor. Turning the lights on, she pulled off her coat, hanging it in the closet to her right. Even though the lights were on, the apartment seemed to be cast in shadows. A small yorkie ran from her bedroom, greeting her with a playful yip. Bending down, she ruffled his fur as he closed his eyes, pushing his head up into her palm.

Straightening up, she sighed, placing her keys on a table, and looking at her reflection in the mirror above. Her eyes were tired-looking and her hair matted down over her shoulders.

A red light caught her attention and she drifted her gaze to the phone. The light blinked on and off indicating messages. She pushed the button, half-listening to the voices coming from the speaker. The first two messages were short, "where are we meeting tomorrow", shreiky renditions of shopping dates with friends. Addison smiled, hearing the giggly voices.

Pressing a button, she heard the loud beep informing her of deletion. The red light blinked once more and she pushed play. Dean's voice floated out of the speaker and his tone was laced with concern. Her ears tuned intently, hearing his message.

_It's me. Um… they found Miller's body in the alley outside the bar. His head was cut off, so the police are saying its murder. They're going to be investigating it so we're not going to open tonight. Please call me back, I'm just concerned because you said you saw Andrew tonight. Just… be safe, alright?"_

The speaker went dead and Addison stared disbelievingly at it, holding a hand to her mouth. She was shocked, her mind digging up memories of talking to people that others couldn't see. Even as a child, she just assumed everyone could see these people.

Her parents had always been concerned about her, watching her communicate with unseen figures, until they took her to see a psychiatrist when she was 6. She couldn't understand why she had to visit a strange man everyday and have him tell her that the people she talked too weren't real.

But it worked, they managed to brainwash her.

Every time she heard a voice coming from someone who wasn't acknowledged, she ignored them. She pushed the thoughts of being special to the back of her mind, telling herself this was just a product of her unsatisfactory childhood. Since then, she noticed traits that separated the living from the non, aiding to her insanity.

Closing her eyes, she walked to her bedroom, kicking off her shoes and heading to the bathroom. Her muscles ached as she turned on the water in the tub. She pulled off her smoke-infused clothing, watching the tub fill until she leaned over and turned off the faucet.

Stepping into the warm water, she let it caress her sore muscles. The bubbles reached up to her shoulder blades and she laid her head back against the edge of the tub, closing her eyes.

The darkness, accented with candle light, provided a calming nature as she took a deep breath replaying the events of the night in her mind. The crumpled piece of paper she had received kept popping up in her head. Andrew Miller's last words had her dumbfounded as she racked her brain for the answer to his clues.

_"Gray."_ she mumbled just as a hand emerged from the shadows and grasped her throat.

Her eyes opened suddenly when she was forced under the water. Addison struggled against her attacker's assault as she tried to resurface; but the hand held her firmly, pinning her against the bottom of the tub. His hand closed her windpipe, until his muscles shifted, allowing liquid to seep into her lungs. Addison's struggle lessened; her body succumbing to the onslaught of his attack.

Sylar felt her muscles tense and then relax under his palm, sensing her loss of consciousness. His hand still clenched around her neck, he brought her up out of the water. As she resurfaced, his eyes snapped to her face; long brown hair hung in pieces over her eyes and covered her face.

Though her appearance was distorted, he knew the young girl. Releasing her throat from his grasp, he paced the small room, running his hand through his dark hair. The hint of guilt that appeared in his mind grew and he found himself cursing under his breath.

The tugging connection returned. The minute he felt it, he knew it wasn't the pull of the hunter and the hunted, but of something else. He couldn't risk killing her until he knew the purpose of this attachment.

Reaching into his coat, he searched for his cell phone, as he tuned his ears for any sort of disruption. As soon as he located his phone, he pushed the numbers to communicate with emergency personnel. A heartbeat pounded in his ears as his eyes darted to her face. Her heartbeat was faint and slow, but a twinge of hope calmed his nerves as his call was connected.

"911. What is the emergency?" the voice on the other line sounded.

Sylar glanced at Addison lying weakly in the tub. He was surprised that his voice was shaky and starting to crack, but he pushed past it, "Th-there was an incident. I think she tried to drown herself."

"Sir, is she breathing? Have you administered CPR?" the operator asked, typing in the background.

Taking a deep sigh, he pushed himself up from his perch on the countertop. He didn't want to answer so many questions; hell, he didn't even want to be calling them in the first place. When he didn't answer quickly enough, the operator repeated her question.

"Sir? Did you check if she's breathing? Can you hear me?"

"Look! She's breathing. Just send help!" he growled into the phone. A second later, he threw his hand to his head, knowing he had used a suspicious voice. His catch was proven when the voice on the other end sounded berated.

"… uhm… Sir, what is your location?" the operator said, stumbling through her words.

Clearing his throat, Sylar controlled the level of his voice as he spoke crisply in the phone, pulling from memory. "358 N. Marcy Ave, Brooklyn…. Apartment number 755."

Terminating the connection, he lowered the phone down to the side of his leg, his eyes locked on Addison as she started to come around. Stuffing the mobile in his pocket, he darted towards the open window, crawling out onto the scaffolding. He disappeared into the shadows just as the sun was beginning to rise. Sirens of an ambulance echoed between the city buildings as he lowered himself down the ladder to the street below.


	5. Chapter 5

The city streets were surprisingly busy for the time of day. Crowds of people walked down the New York sidewalks, hurriedly running to their jobs or trying to catch a taxi cab. Sylar had never been one for being in crowds, he found himself to be more oriented to the isolation. Although in this situation, he found himself withstanding the crowds of people.

Leaning against a brick wall, he crossed his arms, waving off the odd looks that were directed his way. He kept his eyes straight, his ears tuned for the slightest sounds. Lifting one leg, foot placed flat on the wall, his ears perked when he heard the disruption. The source of the sirens whizzed past the mass of people, as they stopped, following its path.

His dark brown eyes followed as well before lifting to the window he had climbed out of earlier. He smiled watching the spectators return to their eventful lives, after taking in the guilty pleasure of someone else's problems. Sylar lowered his eyes to glance at his watch but lifted them suddenly when he saw a familiar face across the street.

Peter had his hand out, trying to catch a taxi when he noticed the shadowed figure. Even in the daylight it was hard to make out his features. One thing stood out, his smile; it was so white and immoral against the darkness he seemed to embody.

The taxi pulled out in front of him and he placed his hand on the door latch, keeping his gaze on Sylar. He watched as he pushed himself off the wall, standing for a few seconds and then disappearing in the crowd. Peter's heartbeat quickened as he climbed into the car, shutting the door.

Placing his hands in his coat, he laughed walking through the crowd. He took pleasure in making Peter squirm; no doubt he was trying to figure out what he was up too. A sadistic grin formed on his face, knowing Peter would never figure out his plan. He didn't have one.

The sun had risen by the time he had left her apartment, its rays warming up the cold air. He made his way up the street, gaining distance between him and the sirens when he was stopped. He gasped as he felt a twinge in his heart, lifting his gaze to another set of flashing lights.

Though he couldn't see him, Andrew stood inches away from Sylar. His eyes bored into him, seeing into his soul. He was on a mission, and completing it would grant him peace. Watching Sylar follow the sirens, he walked up to him, whispering in his ear.

"Go."

Sylar heard it, a soft voice in the back of his head. He stood, eyes wavering through the crowd. He wanted to forget about her, to move on to the next challenge; but he found himself torn.

Sylar wanted so badly to learn her purpose. Even when his hand was wrapped around her throat; he had to push past the sharp pain he felt deep in his mind. She wasn't like his other victims; he could easily acquire their powers without a hint of conscience, but not her.

Andrew stood at his side, watching his face mold to different thoughts. Lifting his gaze, Sylar took one last look around the street; before turning on his heels and heading back towards her apartment. He couldn't understand why he was returning to a crime scene, _his_ crime scene; but he felt his mind would never let it go until he got his answer.

Walking through the doors into the main lobby, he pushed past spectators and loitering EMT's to reach the elevator. His finger pressed a button and he heard a ding, walking into the dimmed shaft. The elevator rumbled softly as it rose seven floors before creaking to a stop. Sylar stood coolly as the doors opened; his head casually peaking out into the hallway before pulling the rest of his body along.

He turned around the corner, walking down the hallway until he met up with the crowd of emergency personnel walking in and out of Addison's apartment. Sylar kept calm, using his manipulation techniques to his fullest. He wasn't quite certain where to start first so he just walked up; trying to get through the door. He was stopped.

"What do you think you're doing?" a man wearing a navy blue jumpsuit asked. Sylar smiled turning around so he could see his face, using his best concerned tone he replied, "What happened? Is Addison ok?"

The man was attentive towards Sylar's response; he narrowed his eyes and asked him to take a seat while he went to retrieve an upper-level officer. Sylar complied, taking a seat and keeping up his appearances.

"Sir, please follow me." A gruff voice sounded and Sylar glanced up from his act. He stood up almost immediately, shaking the officer's hand. The man lead Sylar through Addison's living room, asking him to sit at the kitchen table, while he pulled a chair out and sat down.

"Is she ok?" Sylar questioned, disguising his voice with an English hint. The officer smiled, and answered him. "She's fine. A little shaken up, but fine." Sylar exhaled, running his right hand through his hair, but stopped, drawing his attention to the man.

"There's more to it, isn't there?" his eyes locked with the officers, seeing him nod off his question. He pulled out a list from his folder and began reading key points as Sylar listened, prepping himself for an innocent verdict.

"At 5:24 am, we received a call from a male informing us of a possible suicide attempt involving drowning. The first medical group arrived on scene at 5:40 am; they administered CPR and were able to fully resuscitate the victim. Upon further investigation, bruises formed on her throat and were observed to have been caused by an outside source." He finished reading and pulled his gaze up to Sylar's. His eyes were wide, taking in the information that was presented to him; confusion still etched in his expression.

"Am I being accused of something?" Sylar asked incredulously, fidgeting his hands beneath the table.

"No, not right now… Mr.?" the officer inquired, placing his pen on the table.

"Gray. Gabriel Gray." He responded, letting his eyes drift to the EMT's walking out of the apartment, carrying their equipment. He saw the officer writing down his testimony on the paper and straightened up.

The older man scratched his eyebrow with the cap of his pen and looked back up. "I'm sorry, what is your relationship with Miss McCallen again?" Sylar opened his mouth to speak but was shut off when his ears picked up a new sound.

"Gabriel?" a faint voice spoke and he turned his head. Their eyes locked for a split second before she launched herself at him, hugging him tightly. Sylar was caught of guard but accepted it, wrapping his arms around her back.

Addison kept her grasp, she didn't care that she was hugging an almost total stranger, Gabriel made her feel safe more than anyone and that's all she cared about. She let go, pulling herself back and facing Sylar.

"I'm glad you're alright." He responded, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. He watched as she was guided by another officer towards the couch.

"You two seem close." the officer said, looking at Sylar. His eyes never wavered from her, as Sylar nodded. The man dropped his pen and tucked the pile of papers back into the folder and got up. Before walking away, he glanced at the young man, "You take care of her."

Sylar cocked his head curious as he watched him walk away. The officer seemed to read his mind responding with a straightforward reply, "We've got a lead."

He took a last glance about the apartment before directing his attention to Addison. "Miss McCallen, I suggest you rest and be aware of your surroundings. Have a nice day." Informing his officer's, they left the apartment, leaving Sylar and Addison confused and relieved.


	6. Chapter 6

Sylar stood at the door for minutes before turning. He was still in shock, having been left with Addison with no question. He knew he was good at bending people's perceptions, but this encounter was like none he had ever witnessed. A few awkward glances, some absent-minded questions and a get-out-of-jail free card. What kind of lead did they have anyway?

Sylar was sure they didn't have a lead, he had already run into the cops on numerous occasions before and their reluctance to notice anything only added to their stupidity. He wasn't _that_ good at manipulation.

He must have been unresponsive to his surroundings because Addison, who had been sitting on the couch, got up and walked cautiously towards him. Her hair hung in pieces about her face, tangled from the soap and her bangs swept above her eyelashes. He unknowingly backed up as she advanced on him, stopping short of making contact with the wall.

Addison stopped as she saw him jerk still. Her gaze fluttered to his hands as they balled up into fists at his sides. Sylar's eyes wouldn't allow him to make contact with hers as she hesitated, stepping her foot out but bringing it back.

"Gabriel?" she breathed, her voice sharp through the silence. His knuckles lost their pale color as he loosened his grip, finally lifting his eyes to hers. For a split second, she saw his true nature, the flash of cruel and inhuman traits flickering in his dark eyes. He blinked, and she watched the evidence disappear.

Sylar noticed, he braced himself for the repercussions; ready to throw out the "you're delusional" or "you need sleep" card, but she didn't respond. His eyes shot past her to the window, the sun beaming in the sky a few hours before its setting time. He brought his attention back on her, a smile forming on his face as he walked towards her.

His hand brushed her shoulder and she felt him guide her to the couch. Addison halted and Sylar's hand collided with her back as she stood, staring at the sofa. His mouth opened to speak but Addison whizzed to her right, cutting him off.

"I don't want to sit on the couch." She said bluntly, her eyes shifting to the unseen man sprawled on the cushions. Sylar let out a loud laugh and faced her, but took a sigh when he saw her serious expression.

"Where do you want to sit, the floor?" he asked bemused. She ignored his tone as she replied quickly, "No, just not in this room." Her gaze fixed on Andrew's bored eyes and delighted sneer. His blue eyes narrowed as he stared at her oddly, petting the yorkie lying in his lap.

"I think you need sleep." Sylar stated, grabbing her hand and leading her to the bedroom door. Her eyes stayed on the couch, neck craning until Sylar had pulled her far enough away that she couldn't see him anymore. Once they had entered the bedroom, Sylar turned and closed the door, leaving a gap between the latch and the lock. His mind tried to rush things along so he could leave, as he turned to face the girl.

"Sleep. I'll be out there." His staccato statement accented his hand gesture to the door as he headed back towards it. Addison's hand rested on his shoulder and he rotated his body to face her. He had never noticed how tall she was as she made no effort leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.

"Thank you." She whispered, her eyes locking with his. Sylar wavered, not knowing what to do; he had never been in a situation like this and the sound of her increasing heartbeat drove him crazy. Before he had time to stop himself, he lowered his face to hers and kissed her lips. She didn't object to his touch like he thought she would and he guided her backwards until the back of her legs made contact with the cold metal of the bed frame. The icy connection caused her knees to buckle and then give out as she broke the kiss, falling down on the bed.

Addison gazed up at Sylar through half-lidded eyes, he stared back, his breathing ragged. She made an effort to get up but he brought his arms down, placing them on either side of her body, as he leaned down and kissed her again.

His right hand moved up her arm and caressed her cheek before lowing down to her abdomen. He deepened the kiss as he began to untie her robe, feeling her body tense and relax under his touch. Grasping the knot, Sylar dug his finger in to loosen it but was torn from his task when he heard her soft voice brush against his lips.

"Stop…" she whispered, out of breath. His hand released from her robe when she spoke and he gazed into her eyes. "I don't think I should do this…" she said, her eyes meeting his.

Sylar placed his free hand against her cheek, stroking it gently. A smile formed on his face as he spoke, "It's alright, I won't hurt you," his other hand resting to the right of her thigh, "I promise."

Sylar's voice was silky and soft floating to her ears; when the words registered, she was instantly comforted. There was something about it; his voice was like a drug to her, lulling her into a false sense of security. Once she had allowed him back in, he returned his hand to the knot of her robe. It came undone beneath his grasp as he lowered her down onto the mattress.

Standing at the foot of the bed, he shrugged his coat off, letting it fall to the ground. His eyes met with hers and he saw a fire burning beneath them as he climbed onto the bed, propping himself above her slender figure. Letting his lips trail from her jaw bone down her neck, his fingers curled around the soft silk of her robe, opening it. He kept his lips against her skin as he felt her hands grasp his shirt, unbuttoning it.

He pushed up off her, pulling his shirt off and wriggling out of his jeans. Leaning back down over her form, she shivered when he ran his hands up the sides of her stomach. They were cold at first against her skin but instantly warmed up, as his fingers mingled lightly over her stomach.

Sylar positioned himself between her legs, lowering his face to her shoulder, kissing along her collarbone, as he entered. Addison tensed against his body, gently moaning as he pushed himself in deeper. Both of their breathing patterns became choppy and irregular, his face in the crevice of her neck, running his tongue up her soft skin.

Addison wrapped her arms around his torso, dragging her nails down his back as she pushed her head back into the pillow. She gasped when he shifted his weight, holding his hands on either side of her head. Squeezing her eyes shut, her muscles constricted as she reached her climax. In unison, they both cried out, relishing the sweet taste of their release.

Sylar collapsed into the covers next to her, holding a hand to his forehead. Breathing heavily, Addison rested her head on his chest, pulling the covers around her body. Her hand grazed the skin of his torso as he brought his to wrap around her shoulders. He heard her sigh softly as she drifted into a light sleep, feeling his stomach rise and fall rhythmically. Gazing down at her sleeping form, he smiled, stroking her hair before laying his head back, succumbing to his exhaustion.


	7. Chapter 7

She woke up groggily, the sun pouring through the bedroom and cascading over the covers. Addison turned onto her back, stretching her arms out, letting her eyes focus. She laid there blinking before noticing she was alone. Sitting up, Addison held the bed sheet against her chest, glancing about the room until her attention was drawn to a note placed on the pillow next to her.

Four words were scrawled on the small piece of paper:

_See, you're safe._

_- Gabriel_

She muffled a small laugh, placing it on the nightstand and standing up. Finding a bright pink tank top, she threw it on, coupling it with cut-off sweat pants, as she headed towards the living room, Milo following at her heels.

Walking into the living room she saw Sylar standing in the kitchen, examining the contents of a cabinet. He noticed her walk in and smiled, placing a cup of tea on the island as she sat down.

She laughed, taking the cup in her hands. "You read my mind." She said bringing the cup to her lips. The warm liquid felt good running down her throat as she watched him plate some food. He placed it down in front of her and she found herself staring at it blankly.

She picked up the plate, bringing up to eye level as she looked at it oddly. Sylar tilted his head to one side, watching her stare down the food he had given her. He felt as though she was accusing him of drugging her food, as he sipped his tea.

"It is edible." He said swallowing the hot liquid. Addison was startled by his voice and almost dropped the plate on the island.

"Did you make this?" she asked, watching him bring the mug to his lips. The steam rose up and tickled his nose and he muffled a laugh, "No." tilting the mug back and taking another sip. She shook her head, giggling.

She had to admit, when she first met Gabriel, she was reluctant to engage in anything with him. He seemed to blend with the shadows and his attire was something out of a suspense thriller. But when he first spoke, it felt like nothing was wrong with the world. He held a defiant nature, taking control of any situation, with both respect and dignity.

She caught herself staring at him and shot her gaze down to the countertop. Her stomach growled as she dug into the omelet on her plate. Sylar relaxed as he saw her eat, placing his mug on the table and stretching. He stole a glance at her reading the paper before walking around the island and disappearing into her bedroom.

With all that had happened, she had forgotten how hungry she was as she continued to devour the omelet. She brought the fork up to her lips as she felt a pawing on her ankle.

Dropping the fork and paper she turned her head and glared down at the yorkie, "Stop." She said, as she kicked her foot outwards, pushing the small dog away.

"Stop what?" a masculine voice sounded behind her and she whizzed herself around on the stool.

Sylar stood in the door frame buttoning up his shirt as he looked at her oddly. He transferred his attention between her face and the floor where she had been talking too. Addison was dumbstruck; she couldn't find any possible way to explain herself without him coming to the conclusion that she was insane. Biting her lip, she straightened herself up, grazing her eyes around until she found the sugar container empty.

"We need sugar!" she exclaimed, grabbing the oblong container, "I'm going to go get some." She hopped off the stool and strode past Sylar, avoiding eye contact. Sylar's eyes followed her until she reached the front door and disappeared; his brown eyes narrowed as he returned his gaze to the island's base, searching for anything he may have missed.

---

Addison exhaled as she walked down the hall. She narrowly missed an awkward conversation and hoped that it wouldn't get brought up again. Rolling her eyes, she cursed the day she moved into that apartment and gained the added bonus of a yippy dog that wouldn't leave.

Her knuckles knocked softly on her neighbor's door. She heard shuffling and papers being flown around until the door opened and a tall Indian man stood at it. He smiled seeing the young woman standing at the door frame.

"Addison." He said, his hand placed on the door.

"Hey Mohinder," Addison said smiling, holding the empty container up "got any sugar."

Mohinder laughed and backed out of the door way, letting her walk in.

---

His hand was inches from the door when it suddenly opened and a young girl with long brown hair walked out. She didn't seem to notice the man at the door frame as she giggled, preoccupied with an unseen figure. Peter had to step back to avoid colliding with her. He watched as her head turned, in almost slow-motion, to face him. The smile on her face quickly turned startled as she jumped back narrowly running into him.

"I am so sorry!" she exclaimed as she grasped onto the container that had almost fell to the ground.

Peter held up a hand to stabilize her, though she didn't need it. "No, it's alright. Don't worry about it." The two stood there in a frozen trance until an Indian accent broke it up.

"So, I guess you too have met?" Mohinder's voice traveled from the door frame. Addison moved her neck to meet the geneticist's, a sparkling grin on her face. His shoulder leaning against the wood panel, Mohinder grinned back. "Addison, this is Peter."

"Peter!" she exclaimed looking at the young man in cords, "I've heard so many things about you." Her response caused Peter to look at Mohinder in a mocked version of shock and amusement. "You can fly, right?"

Peter didn't respond to Addison when she finished her reply; instead he focused his attention on Mohinder, letting a coy smile play on his face. "Well… I guess my secret is out." He said, turning his head towards the young girl.

"Don't worry, I don't believe in that kind of stuff." She informed him, laughing it off, though it was slightly nervous, "I prefer to stay in the realm of reality."

A loud laugh broke through in the small hallway and both strangers turned to Mohinder who was trying to stifle his amused outcry.

"Unfortunately, the realm of reality doesn't exist here." He said bemused, as he straightened up.

"Well, if that's the case, I think I'll stick to your stories instead of the real thing." Grinning as she turned to walk down the hall, cup of sugar in hand. "Oh, and thanks for the sugar." she said as she playfully turned her body, then continuing to walk to her apartment.

Peter was intrigued by the young girl's lively and spontaneous nature as he rotated his head to face the geneticist. Mohinder was still leaning against the door frame when Peter turned to face him.

The last of his laugh leaving, Mohinder looked at Peter. "What brings you here?" he questioned as he saw Peter's delighted expression turn grim.

"You know why I'm here." The empath stated, "Sylar killed again."

Mohinder took a deep sigh and backed out of the door frame to let the young man in, closing the door behind him.

---

Addison returned to her apartment, opening the door. She was still amused by her encounter with Peter and Mohinder, as she looked about the room until resting her eyes on Sylar. He was standing near the phone, looking at a picture frame and she couldn't read his expression. The door closed shut and he snapped his gaze upwards to Addison.

"Do you know this woman?" Sylar asked, his attention returning to the portrait. Addison walked up to him, turning to see who he was talking about. His hand pointed to a younger adult woman; she had light brown hair that stopped short at her shoulders and her eyes were dark brown like her own.

"Yeah. She was a friend of my mother's, she always came over every week when I was young," she smiled, remembering her past, "She always wanted to know how I was." Addison laughed, shaking her head and looked back up at Sylar.

She heard him exhale loudly as he closed his eyes and placed the picture frame back on the table. He finally knew why he couldn't kill her and why they shared a strong connection. Sylar backed away and grabbed his coat, heading for the door when Addison called back to him.

He stopped, focusing his attention on the floor until he summoned up enough courage to come clean. Turning his body, his face was blank as he stated bluntly, "That woman in that picture is my mother," he swallowed hard, trying to bury old memories, "I think you're my sister."

He avoided eye contact until he heard her gasp in shock; lifting his gaze to hers for a brief moment before exiting her apartment. Addison clutched her stomach feeling sick as her ears picked up the sharp click of the door lock. She squeezed her eyes shut, hearing the dog yip in the background.

The dog continued to bark until she turned around to yell but was stopped when she saw Andrew standing behind the couch holding the yorkie in his arms. Andrew stared at her through ice-blue eyes, keeping his face vacant.

His lips curled down into a slight frown as he spoke; "Now you know." He waited for the words to register before dematerializing, leaving an unnerving feeling in the air.


	8. Chapter 8

"I need to talk to you. It's important." Andrew Miller spoke behind Addison as she walked up to the table, drinks in hand. Although, he had been dead for four days, the astral plane seemed to do him well, as his appearance was altered. He no longer looked disheveled and drunk, but was clean-cut and actually looked his age.

"I can't talk to you, not right now." She spoke as she placed the orders on the table smiling her hardest through gritted teeth. The three men looked at her oddly but dismissed her actions as soon as they got their hands on the alcohol.

Narrowly missing an awkward conversation, she turned around and spotted a visitor at an empty table. She flung the tray under her arm and walked briskly over towards the man, Andrew following in tow.

"So did you fly here or walk?" Addison asked as she approached Peter. He let out a loud laugh and looked up at her. "Neither."

"Neither?" His response had her genuinely dumbfounded.

Peter had a smile on his face as he answered her confused expression, "I teleported." Addison let out a giggle; she needed a good laugh after everything she'd gone through the past couple of days.

"Hmmm…. You did huh?" playing along as she set a glass of water on his table. She stopped when Andrew, who had been sitting patiently through their little amused giggling, grasped her hand. Addison tried to avoid looking at him, assuming that Peter would think she was crazy talking to air.

This time, Andrew didn't wait for her response, he growled through his teeth, "I i need /i to talk to you."

"Hey, leave her alone." Addison watched as Peter looked straight at Andrew. When Miller didn't let go of the girl's hand, Peter moved over to remove it, but his hand slipped right through his.

All three were in shock; Addison couldn't believe that Peter could see Andrew and neither could Andrew himself. Peter pulled his hand away quickly. It startled him when his hand passed through the man's and landed on hers.

"What the hell?!" he exclaimed looking at his hand like it wasn't his own. Addison was staring at him, gaping through an open mouth as she tried to find words to speak.

Peter snapped his eyes to the other man, watching him disappear with a startled expression plastered on his face. He stood up just as the last of Andrew's body completely disappeared. Curling his left hand around Addison's wrist he tugged her out of the bar.

She flinched at his touch but didn't object as he pulled her out into the alley. As soon as they were outside, the cold wind hit her skin and she was extracted from her daze.

"How could you see him?" the words came spilling out of her mouth and she found herself babbling on and on.

Peter flung his hand to her arm as she brought it up as a gesture to her mumbling rant. He was startled when she flinched her arm away, stopping her babbling. She stared at him through doe eyes, holding her hand as she waited for his answer.

"Was that guy invisible?" he asked her as she stood in front of him.

"Invisible?!" she sounded exasperated as her eyes widened, "He's been dead for four days!! I just thought he was my imagination." She put her hands up in the air, acting defeated, "Like I was losing my mind."

Peter threw his hand up to his head, pulling it through his long bangs as he started to pace the dark alley. Addison watched Peter wading back and forth through puddles and she slumped down on the stairs.

He stopped and looked up into the night sky watching the clouds increase. Sighing, he turned back to her and tried to make sense of what had just happened.

"So… you can talk to the dead?" He noticed she was huddling herself against the wind and quickly took off his coat and put it around her shoulders.

She laughed, but it wasn't amused, "Sounds crazy, huh?" feeling the warmth from his coat wrapped around her shoulders.

Peter sat down next to her and stared at concrete steps. "Any crazier than a guy who sucks up powers like a sponge?"

She stifled a small laugh before lifting her eyes to his. Even though she was smiling, he could tell she was troubled.

"You could always talk to Mohinder," he said locking eyes with her, "He usually has all the answers."

She rolled her eyes, using a defeatist tone, "Yeah, can he solve all my other problems?"

Peter smiled and he turned to face her, "I don't know, he's pretty good at problem-solving. What kind of problems are they?" She tilted her head, taking a deep sigh, "You don't want to know."

_Great, I'm sitting here in the cold talking to a man who can fly, teleport, and talk to the dead… and there's a guy who thinks he's my brother. How could this day get any worse?_

Peter heard her thoughts. "I'm no problem-solver but I think I can help you out with your brother problem." Peter said trying not to sound too suspicious.

"How?" she asked bewildered, pulling his coat closer as the wind gusted in the alleyway.

"Human sponge, remember?" he smiled, standing up. Peter extended his hand outwards to her, she took it and he pulled her up.

"And how are we going to do that?" Addison asked, looking at him through tired eyes.

"We're going to go see little you." He said cocking his head to the right, "All you have to do is think about him." Her eyes widened as he took her other hand and closed his eyes. The brick walls warped around them and she felt her stomach turn. Squeezing her eyes shut, they disappeared from the alley just as the thunder started to rumble.


	9. Chapter 9

The air warped around them as they reappeared in a tiny corridor. Addison broke away from his grasp, clutching her stomach.

"Sorry. It takes some getting used too." Peter said, looking around the room. It was dingy and dark and the paint was peeling from the walls. Addison pushed past her nausea, straightening up and examining their surroundings.

"Something's not right." Peter whispered as he traced his hand over the wall. "Are you sure you focused on him?" He squinted through the darkness, his eyes falling on Addison.

"Yeah, but where ar…" her voice trailed off when she heard voices and she twisted her body. Running her hand against the wall, she located a door and found the doorknob, turning it. Peter noticed the change in lighting, his eyes widened and he reached out towards her.

"Addison, no." he yelled softly but she had already opened the door. Her eyes focused on the owners of the voices. Two men stood near the far wall; one had his back to her and the other was cast in shadows. She tuned her ears to the conversation the two men were having as Peter made his way closer to her.

_I remember you._

She gripped the edge of the door, hearing a loud slam as the shadowed figure was pushed against the wall and into the light. Addison gasped as she saw the long dark bangs of the man and snapped her head to her right.

"Peter?" she exclaimed, confusion rising in her voice. She examined his expression, ignoring his pleas to return back to the present as she turned her attention back on the scene in the apartment. The other man had his hand around Peter's throat and was holding him inches from the ground.

_You're like me aren't you… I'd like to see how that works._

Addison watched in horror as a deep gash was cut into Peter's forehead, caused by an unseen force. She was terrified but she couldn't tear her eyes away, the other man's voice seemed so familiar but his actions were unbelievable.

She lifted her eyes just in time to see Peter's attacker thrown back against the opposite wall, crashing into a glass cabinet. Peter stabilized himself as he fell down, his rival picking himself up from the wreckage. The light cascaded over his face and Addison saw the man's features, short dark hair coupled with deep brown eyes shadowed under thick eyebrows.

She took in a short breath, shaking her head, disbelief overtaking her expression as she muttered, "No… it can't be." A hand rested on her arm and the surroundings warped around her, replaced with the bright atmosphere of her apartment. She snapped her head around the room, reassuring herself they were back before directing her gaze on Peter.

"I must have been thinking about something else, I'm sorry you had to see that." He said, his eyes looking at the floor, "We'll find your brother."

"No, you found him." Her words were so faint and she felt sick saying them. The man she had just seen was so unfamiliar but she couldn't help but remember the hint of aggression the Gabriel she knew showed the other night.

Her response caught Peter's attention; he lifted his gaze up to hers and asked incredulously, "Sylar?"

"Sylar?" Addison questioned, her face contorted in confusion.

"Talking about me?" a darker tone trailed through the room and both swung around. Sylar sat calmly in a large chair; his coat flowing over his knees as they were neatly crossed.

Peter grabbed Addison and pulled her back. Sylar watched his actions and laughed, pulling himself up from the chair. "I'm not going to hurt her," he paused and looked at Addison, "She is, after all, my sister." Peter backed away from his adversary, dragging Addison with him, as he watched Sylar's lips curl into an eerie grin. "Unfortunately, I can't say the same for you."

With a flick of his hand, Peter's grasp on Addison's hand broke and she was flung backwards. She slid on the hardwood flooring until her back made contact with the wall.

She scrambled to get up but Sylar turned his head, wagging his forefinger in a mocking tone, "Ah ah ah. I'd stay down if I were you." He extended his hand out, breaking the leg of a table off as it flew towards his palm. Before it had a chance to connect with his hand, he flicked his fingers outwards and it careened towards Peter, knocking him off his feet.

Peter stumbled to get up but was knocked down again, a wooden chair shattering as it struck his stomach. Sylar continued his assault, throwing any available item at his victim. Wood laid in pieces on the floor as Sylar advanced towards Peter. He grasped him by his throat and pulled him up from the wreckage of his attack.

Clawing at his hand, Peter focused all of his concentration until he felt the hand loosen and drop him as Sylar staggered back. He oriented himself, starting his advance again when Peter flung a stool at him pushing him farther away.

Addison watched their confrontation, fear keeping her from intervening. She constantly repeated to herself that this was not real and that the man in front of her was not Gabriel until a familiar voice sounded in her ears.

"You might want to stop them." The deceased acquaintance said dully. Addison turned her head, seeing Andrew sitting casually on the floor next to her. Her eyes squinted in disbelief as she replied, "Are you insane?"

He laughed when her answer registered and he pointed his hand to the two still fighting. "It's not like you'll get hurt." Addison shook her head, raising her voice, though it was barely audible against the chaos happening a few feet away. "No, I'll get killed."

She saw Andrew's lips curl into a grin and he turned and faced her, "Well, there's always that. It'd make my job easier." He brought up his leg and placed an elbow on his knee, flashing a smile at her.

"What job?" Addison asked, her brown eyes narrowing in his direction. He bounced his eyebrows in a playful expression before looking back at the fight still going on. "Now's a good time." He said, indicating the break in chaos. Addison brought her eyes to the two men; they stood feet away from each other. Both were visibly drained, mentally and physically. A combination of scarlet and orange overtook Peter's hands as they rested at his sides while Sylar's fingers twitched, waiting for his assault.

Addison took one last look at Andrew before pushing herself up and walking towards the impending destruction. Peter's hands lifted and she was blinded by the bright light that was emitted, throwing herself in the path.

The force of the blast deafened the room. Addison stood in front of him, eyes boring into his face, but not focusing. Time stood still, minutes passed by, as the shock rocketed through the room. Sylar made no effort to move, he kept his stance, watching her eyes cloud in front of him.

Tears drained from her eyes as her body wavered, falling to her knees and forward. His arms caught her as she fell, guiding her down to the ground. He stared at her body tucked in his grasp before lifting his eyes to gaze through the chaos. His gaze was met with her killer, his face smeared with tears as he scooped up her body and ran out the door.


	10. Chapter 10

The force of her hitting to the ground bolted her awake. She flung upwards violently, staring at the wall across the room, shock overtaking her breathing. Addison buried her face in her palms, trying to recollect the fuzzy memories clouding her mind. Her body twitched remembering her nightmare until a loud crash pulled her from her thoughts.

She gazed at the bedroom door hearing shuffling as she pushed herself off the bed. Walking cautiously towards the door she opened it a few inches and peered out into the living room. Pillows and books lay strewed about the room and she pushed the door open walking in.

Addison bent down and picked up a book, drifting her gaze around the room. It was if a tornado had gone through her apartment, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. She heard footsteps and whizzed around coming face to face with her intruder. The man was in his late 40's with short salt and pepper hair. He dressed impeccably, wearing a dark gray suit; the smug grin on his face caused her nerves to jump as she stared at him.

"Addison McCallen I take it?" he asked keeping the smile on his face. Addison couldn't find words, slowly nodding her head in reply. He laughed, looking past her to the wreckage he caused, "Interesting."

"Who are you?" she questioned, keeping her stance. Thompson nodded his head, walking over to the coffee table and throwing down a pile of folders. He looked back up at her, "A friend."

Sitting down in a chair, he extended his hand out to the sofa. Addison hesitated but her eyes followed down to the folders on the table as she sat down across from him.

"I'm curious," he said looking at her, "Do you remember anything from last night?" His question peaked her interest and she tilted her head in confusion.

"You don't remember, do you?"

Addison opened her mouth to protest, but he was right; she had no idea what had happened the night before. Thompson noticed her perplexed expression and he leaned back against the chair, pointing to the folders in front of her. Her hand reached out to the folders and she picked up the first one, opening it up and examining its contents.

The pictures laid out a timeline, starting with the layout of her apartment, followed by images of a chaotic fight between Peter and Gabriel. She thumbed through the photographs, finding shots of her seemingly talking to herself, until she stopped short, staring the last pictures in the file. She gasped looking at them; the images depicted a blinding orange light, preceded with her lifeless body tucked in Gabriel's arms.

"You died last night, Miss McCallen."

She lifted her eyes from the images, shock written on her face. Swallowing hard, she tried to keep the shock from being noticed. "Well, clearly I didn't, as you can see." She said, her heartbeat rising. He continued to stare at her and Addison got an eerie feeling that he knew more than he was letting on.

The smug grin returned on his face and he responded, "Clearly."

Addison looked back down at the photos on the table and shook her head. Lifting her gaze, she looked back at Thompson, a disgusted look on her face. "So… you were following me?"

"I'd explain, but it's just a bunch of psychobabble," Thompson voiced, getting up. "What I can tell you is that we find people like you," he extended his hand out towards Addison to accent his confession. "and we protect them…. Or put them to justice."

"What do you want with me then?"

"What I want is for you to find your brother." He saw her face change and he added, "Yes, we know about Gabriel. Except we know of him as Sylar." He bent down and picked up another folder, tossing it in her lap. It contained another set of pictures but they were different from the previous folder. From what she saw, they looked like crime scene photos.

She felt sick looking at the images, bodies laid frozen in gruesome positions, all with the tops of their heads removed.

"Believe it or not, that's the product of your brother." Thompson said, watching her throw the folder on the table, looking away. Addison bit her lip. Closing her eyes; she shook the images out of her mind.

"How can I believe you," she said shaking her head, "You raided my apartment. How can I possibly trust this!?" She threw her hand down, pointing to the files. Thompson paced a bit before stopping and giving a response to her question, "You can't."

His answer caused her to look up. He held a card in front of her face, taking it; she lifted her gaze to his. "It's up to you if you want to be an accomplice, but then again, that makes you a criminal." The smile returned to his face, "If you find him, call." He said, turning around and exiting her apartment.


	11. Chapter 11

Addison spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on the windowsill, watching clouds pass by. Every now and then she would glance at the table to the folders and pictures laid out on it, and every time she would feel the sting of threatening tears.

She turned her head when she heard the door open. Climbing off her perch, Addison hesitated, hearing a familiar voice echo in the other room. Rounding the corner, she found Sylar standing at the door frame, his eyes lifted to Addison as he saw her enter the room.

He played the cards, showing shock on his face, "What happened? Are you alright?" He looked around the room, scanning the wreckage that he had partially created.

"No thanks to you."

Sylar was genuinely thrown off by her words, he reached out and wrapped his hand around her upper arm as he questioned, "What are you talking about?"

"Don't." Addison said, pulling her arm away, causing Sylar to retract his hand hastily. Water started to well up in her brown eyes and she glared at him, "Who are you?"

"Addison, it's me, Gabriel." Sylar replied, trying to keep up his appearances but failing. He stared at her, studying her eyes when he noticed the fury behind them.

Before he could react, she had thrown herself at him, pounding her fists against his chest. Tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving running stains as she continued her attack.

"Who are you?!" Addison screamed, pushing him closer to the wall. She brought her fists down for another violent hit but they stopped, hitting an invisible shield. She avoided his gaze as she assaulted his barrier, punching harder and harder until she could break through. "You think you can just take innocent lives?!"

His concentration split, and her fists flew through his guard. Snapping his hands around her wrists, he halted her attack, his face emotionless. She stared at him through wide eyes, trying to convince herself that this was all a dream. His hands tightened around her wrists and she mumbled, fear rising in her voice. "He was right…"

Hearing her words clearly, he clenched his jaw, digging his fingernails into her skin. His mind wanted desperately for her to accept him but his body thought otherwise.

"I just want you to understand." Sylar's voice sounded pleading but his face remained frigid and distant. Addison rolled her eyes, pushing her face closer to his to accent her words, she spat, "Because murder is so simple." She felt the sharp sting of his fingertips sinking into her flesh once again as his body stiffened.

He narrowed his eyes at her reply until he noticed the grimace showing on her face. Loosening his grip, his nails pulled out from the bloody crescents he created, letting his hands return to his sides.

"I can't… I won't allow myself to let you go on with this…" Addison faltered watching his expression stay cold. "I can't be placed with that burden." She backed away from him, heading for the phone. Sylar allowed her to pick it up, saving his energy. Searching through the contacts, Addison located the number but the phone flew out of her hands before her finger could rest on the call button.

Her gaze lifted to Sylar; his hand was raised in the air as he continued to stare at her. Though there was no evidence of a smile on his face, Addison could tell his ego was getting a boost from looking at his body language.

"I asked you nicely," he said, his eyes boring into her own, "Now, you've put me in a situation I don't want to be in."

She turned around, bringing her hand up to strike him but Sylar moved fast. He snatched her by the wrist and swiftly slammed the back of his hand against her cheek, causing her to stumble back. Sylar caught her before she had a chance to recover, grabbing her violently by the jaw and ramming her into the wall.

"Don't ever try that again." He hissed, snapping her head to the right. Hot tears ran down her cheeks, hitting his hand and he let go, realizing what he'd done. He had never been physically violent to someone, besides using his ability to gain what others didn't deserve, but that never required human contact. For the first time in his life, he felt what he could only assume was his conscious.

"I'm sorry." He stammered, directing his attention to the floor. A mocking laugh filled the room and he lifted his gaze to her frightened face.

"No you're not. People like you are never sorry." Her words were bitter and caused Sylar to flinch upon hearing them. Addison saw Sylar's body stiffen and she braced herself against the wall, anticipating his reaction.

He clenched his jaw watching tears roll down her face, before turning on his heels and walking to the door. Placing his hand on the knob, he paused, taking a quick glance at Addison until he turned the knob, leaving her apartment.

The click of the lock caused Addison to sink down to the floor, tears falling freely as she buried her face in her hands. She stayed in that position for what seemed like hours until a knock on the door broke her trance. Addison pushed herself up, hastily wiping the tears from her face as she approached the door. Wrapping her hand around the knob, she opened the door, coming face to face with Thompson.

"You didn't do as you were told."

"I tried… it's…" she stopped her sentence, noticing the unnerving smile plastered on his face. She scrunched her face in confusion, opening her mouth to question, but she was halted when she felt a strong arm wrap around her shoulders. A cloth covered her nose and mouth and she felt the biting sting of chloroform.

Addison stumbled, feeling the chemicals take affect. Her eyelids became heavy as she fought to stay awake. Thompson's smug grin imprinted itself in her mind as she drifted, the drug finally taking hold of her body.


	12. Chapter 12

Her eyes opened, staring groggily around the room. Addison sighed, pushing herself up from the cold, hard slate they excused as a bed. The room was small, with stark white walls and a large mirrored surface. Chills ran up her spine as she realized that it wasn't a mirror but a two-way window. The air was freezing and she tucked her knees up to her chest, staring at the dark paned glass. She could tell someone was watching.

Almost instantly, the large metal door opened and a man in a white coat walked in, followed by Thompson. He stopped at the window, while the white coat advanced on Addison, carrying a tray. Addison huddled against the wall, trying desperately to push herself as far away as possible. He filled the needle with liquid and bent down over her trembling form when the door blasted open and another man directed his attention to Thompson, "Sir!"

Thompson pulled up a hand to halt the white coat, receiving confirmation from the suit that their visitor had arrived. He strode up, placing his hand on the other man's arm, "That won't be necessary." Addison lifted her eyes up to Thompson long enough to see him smile and attempt to pull her up.

Addison swung her fist and it connected with his jaw. She scrambled up, preparing to escape from him, but he shot out his hand and grabbed her ankle. Addison lost her footing and fell on the cold floor. Pushing herself up on her hands, she turned around, her heartbeat rising.

"I hate you." She spat, watching him straighten up and rub his jaw. Thompson reached out and grabbed her roughly by the arm. "Honey, the feeling is mutual." He tugged on her arm violently and she flew towards him. Dragging her across the room, he opened the door and tossed her into a chair. He took a quick glance at the security cameras, sighing as he turned around and grabbed her once again, pulling her along as they exited the room.

He made his way down the hall, hauling her with him as he reached the elevator. Several guards had followed and were surrounding them, no doubt assuring that she wouldn't escape. The elevator dinged and Thompson gripped her arm, pulling her into the elevator. Doors closing, the elevator lowered until reaching the ground floor. Addison kept her eyes down on the tile, letting him drag her about the building until they stopped at the entrance doors. She looked up at him confused, and he kept a defiant attitude, responding to her expression.

"Now, I have a little situation on my hands." He paused, still holding her upper arm. "I could drag you around the plaza and have a hundred people stare at us, or…" His grip on her arm tightened and Addison cringed. "You could behave and follow along, like a good little girl." Thompson's eyebrow rose, seeing Addison push her lip out, glaring daggers at him.

"Oh. Such a look." He said, a smile forming on his face. Opening the door, he released her arm and she walked outside, watching him cautiously. It was a cold day in New York and the wind blew in the plaza as she stood looking at the large crowd of people. Thompson had walked past her and the guards that should have made it their duty to watch her were aimlessly walking with Thompson. She knew that if she had tried to escape, they would make her regret it so she pushed on, following them until she collided with a native.

The man brushed his bangs out of his eyes and lifted his face, a sparkling smile placed upon it. His smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared and he awkwardly backed up. "It's not possible." He muttered, his brown eyes wide. Addison felt the prick of hurt as she gazed at his expression. The young man continued to back up, throwing himself into the onslaught of New York City crowds.

"No! No, No Peter!!! I'm not dead!" Addison screamed through the chaos. Her pleading eyes followed Peter as he shook his head, disappearing in the mass of people.

"Try and keep up, Miss McCallen." Thompson's voice broke next to her. He lifted his hand to her arm, but she jerked her shoulder away, glaring at him as she passed by, following the guards.

The escorts forced their way past the flocks of people until they reached the signature statue that stood in the center of the plaza. Sylar had been standing at the base of the monument and the guards circled around Addison, blocking any form of escape. Thompson walked up to him, holding his hand out in a friendly matter, but Sylar only glared at him with an frigid stare. He pulled his hand out of his pocket, holding up a tape as it was instantly consumed with ice.

Thompson let out a laugh; reaching into the sentinel cage he grabbed Addison by the arm. "Nice trick. Why don't we take this inside?" He reached into his jacket, pulling out a gun and pressed it into her ribs.

When Sylar didn't respond quick enough, Thompson cocked the gun, causing Addison to whimper, hearing the gun click as she stared at him through watery eyes.

Sylar kept his expression cold, raising his eyebrow in compliance as he followed the group into the building. As soon as they had entered through the doors, the guards scattered, leaving the three alone in a vacant room. Sylar was curious but he didn't think too much on it, as he continued the effect of an unnerving atmosphere.

The silence was broken when Thompson's gun flew out of his hands. He jerked his body in surprise, his hand loosening around Addison's arm as she ran towards Sylar.

Sylar tilted his head slightly, holding the shock from showing on his face. He hadn't moved the gun from Thompson's hand, which meant someone else was in the room. Addison latched onto his arm and he quickly pulled her behind him, seeing Thompson return his gaze on them both.

"I'm impressed." Thompson said through a dead cold stare. Sylar felt Addison push forward but he held her back, meeting Thompson's gaze with one of his own. He heard a faint heartbeat and he cautiously directed his attention towards the sound. Thompson noticed his eyes dart and he muffled a laugh, turning his head, but he was thrown into the wall before he could get his eyes on course.

Sylar and Addison stared at Thompson with wide eyes, until he was slammed into the door and a figure started to materialize, holding him against the metal.

"Peter?!" Addison exclaimed, breathless. She felt Sylar's muscles tense under her hand as he glared at him. Sylar pulled away from her; walking briskly up to Peter, he flicked his fingers out, pushing Peter away from Thompson. Peter stumbled back, blocking the full effect of his power and narrowed his eyes. "What the hell!? I just helped you!" he growled.

"I don't need your help." Sylar yelled, clenching his teeth. Thompson started to move but Sylar shot out his hand, holding him firmly by the throat. He kept his eyes on Peter, until he started to disappear from his view. Ignoring him, Sylar looked back at Thompson, tightening his grasp as he smirked.

"Killing me won't accomplish anything." Thompson said, gasping for air. Sylar laughed, lifting his free hand towards his neck, giving a devious grin. A high pitched shriek echoed in the room as he dragged his finger inches from his throat, drawing blood. He continued his attack but was stopped when a chair connected with his back. His victim fell to the ground, coughing madly as Sylar pushed himself from the wall, turning around.

"You don't give up, do you?" he questioned, finding Peter standing confidently in front of him. Peter kept his stance, replying "What can I say? Helping killers isn't exactly my cup of tea." A taunting smile broke out on his face and Sylar laughed, returning his mocking answer, "Didn't you become one?"

A sharp crackling sound echoed in the room as Sylar's hands were engulfed in a bright blue light. Peter countered his provocation with one of his own, taking a deep breath, his hands sparked up in a deep orange shade. Sylar kicked his foot out, beginning his advancement when a loud bang rang in his ears.

The gunshot caught their attention, and they turned around quickly staring at the source for the noise. Addison stood a few feet away, Thompson holding the back of her jacket as he held the gun up in the air. He was bleeding profusely from his throat but it didn't seem to bother him. Lowering the gun, he pushed it against her jaw bone.

Sylar got over the shock, sighing in relief, as he shifted his gaze to Peter. The empath stared at him confused before picking up the clue his mind sent. Thompson narrowed his eyes at Sylar, watching Peter disappear once again his hand tightened over the trigger.

Sylar stood defiantly, waiting patiently as he continued his confrontation with Thompson. After a few minutes, Addison was jerked out of Thompson's grasp, giving him an opportunity. He threw out his hand, and the gun came flying towards him. He grasped it, quickly unloading the barrel into Thompson's chest.

Peter pulled her down, out of Thompson's hold as he back collided with the wall. Losing control of his invisibility, his figure gained more substance and became less faint.

Addison opened her eyes, lifting them up, she saw Peter sitting in front of her smiling. She didn't try to move from his lap as her eyes lit up, returning his expression with a giddy smile. Peter absent-mindedly reached out, wiping the tears from her face until he looked up at Sylar.

She followed his gaze and pushed herself up from Peter's lap, as she hesitantly walked up to Sylar. As soon as she had gotten close enough and he hadn't moved, she threw her arms around him in a hug, burying her face in his coat. Sylar didn't seem as surprised as he did before, hugging her back before he pulled her away from him. He looked at Peter from across the hall, but drifted his gaze back on Addison, giving an almost inaudible reply, "You need to go."

Standing up from the wall, Peter picked up the feedback emitting from Sylar's mind. _This won't ever happen again._ Peter tilted his head in Sylar's direction and he met his expression with a hard stare, _Next time I see you, you're dead._

Sylar smirked, knowing Peter had just read his mind, as he watched Peter walk up. Peter took Addison's hand, guiding her down the hallway and out of view, leaving the building and undesired chaos behind.


	13. Epilogue

The low beats of music droned in the background as Addison sat at the bar, counting her tips. The tavern was almost vacant, despite a few customers here and there. Addison sighed, folding the bills and stuffing them in the back pocket of her jeans. It had been her first night back since the altercation at Kirby Plaza, she was tired, confused and had gotten an earful from Dean.

**1:05 am**

Her brown eyes drifted up towards the clock on the wall, watching the hand click softly, as she ran her hands through her hair, pulling it up in a messy bun. The door to the back opened and Dean came walking out, placing a glass of water in front of her. She gave him a small smile, taking the glass and drinking slowly.

Dean's eyes surveyed the room, locating two customers who seemed pre-occupied with the music and entertainment on the television. He lowered his eyes just as Addison brought hers up.

"Are you ever going to tell me where you've been the past 2 weeks?" he asked, smiling as he saw her head shake in disbelief. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." She replied, finally giving a genuine smile.

It had been a week ago, today, that she had left that building and her brother behind. For some reason, she couldn't get that notion out of her head. She hadn't heard from Gabriel since then, so the only assumption she had was that they had caught him or he was dead. She swallowed hard, thinking of the worst case scenario.

Addison glanced back at the clock, hearing the dull tick of the time echo in her ears.

**1:08 am**

She rolled her eyes on how slow the clock was, as she lifted a hand to rub her tired eyes. Raising the glass to her lips, a familiar voice broke behind her.

"Anything good here?" he questioned, and Addison nearly spilled her drink. Spinning around on the stool, she faced a black overcoat. She lifted her eyes up to his face, recognizing his dark eyes and features. He stared down at her, keeping his expression stern, but her smile caused him to break and he smiled back.

Her face fell and she hesitated, bringing her hand out to touch his arm. Sylar noticed and he muffled a laugh, feeling her hand connect with his wrist. "I'm not dead." He responded, but before he could react, she had bounded off the stool and had latched her arms around his neck, hugging tightly.

Sylar wrapped an arm around her waist, fearing that she'd fall and take him down with her, finally lowering her down and taking a seat next to her at the bar. Sylar placed his elbows on the bar top, staring at the dark grains in the wood before sighing and lifting his gaze to her. "I want you to have a normal life."

"Normal?" she exclaimed, her voice ringing in his ears. "I'm never going to have a normal life, Gabriel." Sylar's hand twitched when he heard her say Gabriel, she was the only person who actually made him accept that name, she didn't use it for a special agenda like his mother did or use it as an insignificant trait like the rest; she just said it like it was. No meaning behind it, except compassion.

He looked at her and smiled, "As normal a life as you can make it," he trailed off, looking at the clock, "I just don't want you involved in the things I'm in." he said, finishing his sentence and pushing himself up from the stool. Addison turned herself around as he got up. Pausing for a second, he lowered his face down and kissed her on the forehead, "See you around."

She followed his gaze as they met the clock once again and he narrowed his dark eyes before turning and heading for the exit.

**1:15 am**

Addison dropped her eyes to the floor but brought them back up when she heard his voice, "By the way, your clock is broken." His hand slipped into the pocket of his coat and he wrapped his hand around another small piece of paper before walking out into the cold.

"He could almost pass as a normal human being." Another familiar voice said, and Addison jumped when she turned her head and saw Peter appear, his body lounged back in a relaxed manner. Punching him in the arm playfully, she lowered her voice "Don't do that, you know it freaks me out."

"Sorry," he said, laughing as he grabbed her glass of water and took a drink. Lowering the glass down, his bangs flopped down in his eyes and he pushed them aside, asking "Are you done for the night?"

Addison nodded, raising herself up from the stool and disappearing in the back room. She re-emerged, holding her coat and walked up to Peter, who had waited by the door. She pulled her jacket on, her eyes catching a glimpse of a figure by a table. Addison paused, watching Andrew stand behind the table, his hand on the chair. She watched as his normal street clothes were replaced with golden garments. He smiled at her and disappeared in a misty glow.

"Everything alright?" Peter asked, looking at her. Addison smiled brightly and replied back, "Yeah, everything's fine."

**1:25 am**


End file.
